


A Joining In Mutual Need

by KahtyaSofia



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Blow Job, First Time, Fisting, M/M, Military, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 15:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KahtyaSofia/pseuds/KahtyaSofia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brad needs to feel back in control of his life and Nate needs to just let it all go. Mutual need leads to mutual satisfaction one late night in a hotel room.<br/>Written for the Generation Kill Porn Skirmish: prompt: Any pairing: fisting</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Joining In Mutual Need

**Author's Note:**

> This fic's journey has been complicated and tumultuous. I got the idea and began to write. While scanning the Porn Skirmish prompts, I came across the fisting prompt and realized this fits perfectly. (Sorry to anyone who hoped for a different pairing.) I sent this to my first beta and suddenly, I had a very uncharacteristic crises of confidence. My betas talked me down off the ledge, but only just barely. No, a first time sexual encounter would most likely not ever end up this way but…this is fanfiction!

Brad made it all the way to Neptune's Net before fatigue and memories caught up to him and in a moment of inattention, he laid his bike down on its side. He was fucking lucky. It was too late for there to be much traffic and it was a relatively straight portion of an otherwise winding road.

He'd felt tension in his back and shoulders as he'd blown through the small town of Malibu. The vibration of the bike was taking its toll on his hands and arms. Brad could feel his grip on the handlebars weakening and his shifting through the gears had grown sluggish. He'd sped around several slower cars and roared his way up Pacific Coast Highway. Once the lights of Pepperdine University were behind him, Brad felt engulfed in the dark night and, with little else to focus on, dark thoughts and memories had flashed through his mind.

He'd been a fucking sitting duck in the front seat of that Humvee outside of Muwaffaqiyah. Command hadn't allowed them foot patrols to get eyes on the bridge. They just assumed the ambush had been stopped and had ordered Nate to order them across the bridge. Brad and his men had nearly died because of a situation he'd had no control over. His skills had barely been enough to keep them alive until Nate could un-fuck the entire thing.

If Brad's memories of the helplessness he'd felt that night weren't enough to fuck with him, the recurring fantasies of Nate he kept having finished the job. When Nate had set boots in Kuwait, he'd been youthful and idealistic. Brad always smiled at the memory of how young Nate had looked in those early days, soft cover flopping down over his oversized ears. By the time they'd gotten out of Iraq, Nate had looked older, tired, disillusioned and defeated. Brad had wanted - still wanted - to take Nate in his arms, lay him down, spread him out, and comfort him the way Brad lent comfort best.  
And that was when the front tire of the bike had wobbled and Brad had overcorrected in his surprise and his fatigue.

It was dark and he hadn't been going very fast, so the skid wasn't very long. He came off the bike early in the skid but his slower speed and thick leathers meant he'd gotten to his feet uninjured. Brad had tried to outrun his feelings of inadequacy and fantasies he knew would never come true and they'd both caught up to him and put him on his fucking ass.

Rough bikers from the Net had run into the road to check on him and provide assistance. Brad appreciated their concern and their help. As he stood on shaky legs, he realized the spill had rattled him more than he'd initially thought. He unzipped his jacket as one of the burley bikers pushed Brad's ride into the parking lot. Under the yellow-tinted lights, it was hard to tell how much damage he had done, but it all appeared cosmetic. Brad would have his goddamn work cut out for him, though. The bike started right up and seemed roadworthy, so he reached for his helmet.

"Hey, buddy," one of the other bikers held up a hand. "You just took a hell of spill. Maybe you should sit down and chill for a few minutes."

Brad sat back for a moment and took stock. Maybe he shouldn't be riding in the dark on a bike in questionable condition. He clutched his helmet to hide the tremor in his hands. Because of fucked up Command, he'd almost died, more than once, in Iraq; ironically, he'd escaped that fate only to nearly kill himself back home. All because he couldn't shake the horrors of what Command had done, or the memories of a certain Lieutenant.

"You got anybody you can call, sweetie?" a wife or a girlfriend of one of the bikers asked him, concern evident in her face and voice. "Somebody to come get you for the night?"

"Yeah, man," another biker said, in a placating tone. "No one'll fuck with your ride while it's parked here."

"You got a wife or a girlfriend to come pick you up?" the same woman asked.

Brad's mind flashed to Nate but he pushed that idea right the fuck aside.

"Come inside and have a drink, call somebody, and we'll all wait together," one of the men said, reaching to take Brad's helmet from his numb fingers.

Brad swung his leg over the bike and felt himself steadied by soft, feminine hands at his arm and lower back. He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket and scrolled through the contacts list until he came to 'N'. Fuck it. He couldn't stop himself. His brain just would not focus on anyone else to call.

"Hey, Brad," Nate answered quickly and, from his tone, it sounded as though he'd still been awake.

"Hey," Brad replied, and then froze. What did he say? I let thoughts of you distract me and I put my fucking bike on its side? I crashed my bike and I need you to come rescue me cause I'm a pussy?

"Brad, what's wrong?" Fucking perceptive Nate.

"I had a little accident on my bike." All things considered, it had been a little accident.

"What do you mean, 'a little accident'?" Nate's voice was officer-hard.

"I put it on its side and took off a couple layers of paint, is all," Brad answered, fast and succinctly.

"Since you're the one calling me and not the fucking hospital staff, I assume you're uninjured?" Brad could hear movement and rustling behind Nate's voice. Had he interrupted something?

"Not a scratch," Brad replied. "But I probably shouldn't be riding anymore in the dark until I've had a good look at the bike."

"Does your friend know where Neptune's Net is?" the woman beside him said as she gently steered him up the steps of the restaurant.

"Where are you?" Nate demanded and Brad heard the distinct jangle of keys over the phone.

Brad told him, but couldn't shake the feeling he was taking Nate away from something.

"On PCH outside of Malibu?" Nate confirmed. At Brad's confirmation he continued, "This time of night there won't be much traffic, but still. Can you keep yourself out of fucking trouble for the hour and a half it will take me from Oceanside?"

"I think I'm being looked after by some new friends," Brad said, not bothering to suppress a chuckle as he found himself settled in a chair and a beer plunked down in front of him. "Look, I couldn't think of who else to call, but if you're busy…"

"Shut the fuck up, Brad," Nate cut him off. "Call me if anything changes and I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Roger that," Brad replied. He ended the call and tossed his cell onto the table beside him.

"Your friend coming?" someone asked.

"Cee-Oh," Brad replied and took a long swig of beer.

"I thought you looked Navy," his female caretaker said with smile.

"Marine," Brad corrected quickly, as always.

"Hoo-rah," chorused around the bar and several drinks were raised in a symbolic toast.

If there was ever a group of people that Brad didn't mind swapping war stories with, it was bikers. There were always legit combat vets among them. The older ones had seen action in Vietnam, the younger ones had been in Afghanistan and Iraq. By the time Nate arrived, Brad was several beers down and appreciating the stories of fellow warriors.

He looked up in time to see Nate enter the bar and he tried to ignore the way his heart kicked up in pace. A woman in tight jeans and an even tighter tank top gave him an appreciative once over and said with a smile, "Oh, hello, cutie. You sure are sweet to look at but with that haircut, there's only one person you could possibly be here for."

Brad watched Nate's gaze follow the woman's outstretched finger across the room. He located Brad easily, locking gazes with him as he walked across the room. Nate took the offered chair at the table with a nod and a polite 'thanks'.

"Gentlemen," Brad said loudly, for the entire bar to hear. "I give you Captain Nate Fick, Recon Marine and Commanding Officer of Bravo Two."

Nate smiled and gave a general wave to the room before pinning Brad with a sharp look. "Tell me you started drinking after your accident, Sergeant."

"Yessir," Brad replied. "I have been awaiting extraction from my current A.O. while imbibing copious amounts of beer and exchanging stories with fellow warriors."

Nate raised his voice to the room at large, "I trust Sgt. Colbert has conducted himself in a manner befitting a decorated Recon Marine?"

One of the bikers responded to Nate while still looking at Brad. "Oh, he conducted himself with honor, but this is the first we've heard about being decorated."

"Time to go, Captain," Brad said, standing a little unsteadily and reaching for his jacket and helmet.

Nate stood to follow, but not before Brad caught him smiling - a smile that Brad felt all the way in his gut.

"Thank you all for taking care of Sgt. Colbert." Nate addressed himself to Brad's new friends. "He's a high value asset to his friends as well as the Corps."

Brad couldn't help but make a rude noise at that.

They stepped out into the nearly deserted parking lot and Brad slipped his jacket on. He paused, spread his arms and took a deep breath to clear his head.

"You sure you're okay, Brad?" Nate asked softly.

"Yeah," he replied quietly. "Yeah, I am. I'm sorry I dragged you all the way up here. I'm sure you were doing something far more productive with your time." Brad just didn't want to think of what that might have been.

"Just reading," Nate said, leading the way to his car. "I'm happy to help out if you need me."

Something loosened in Brad's chest.

Nate pulled around so Brad could retrieve his bundle of clothes from where he had them bungeed to his bike. He'd traveled light intentionally, his SCUBA dry-bag held a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, socks, a change of underwear, a comb and a toothbrush.

"I was going to get a room at the Mandalay in Oxnard," Brad said to Nate when he hesitated in pulling out onto PCH. "It's a shorter drive than heading back to Oceanside this late." For months, Brad had been having fantasies about getting Nate alone in the anonymity of a hotel but he tried not to follow that train of thought.

Nate's expression was inscrutable in the dark.

"I'll spring for two rooms," Brad rushed on into the silence he feared was awkward. "It's the least I can do since I dragged you all this way."

Nate turned right onto PCH and headed for Oxnard. "Brad, we've been to war together. I think we can manage to share a hotel room for a night."

Brad nodded once in understanding and tried to ignore the fact he was having difficulty breathing. "Did you think to pack a bag?" he asked, affecting a tone he hoped sounded casual.

"I started packing one as soon as you told me you'd been in an accident," Nate replied quietly.

That explained the rustling noises in the background.

They drove in silence for several minutes before Nate spoke again. "So, what happened?"

"I pushed too hard," Brad said, keep his eyes carefully trained out the windshield. "I should have fucking stopped in Santa Monica but I thought I could make it to Oxnard."

"How long have you been riding today?"

"All day."

"And you only made it to Malibu?"

"I took the long way up Old 395 through Fallbrook and Bonsal," Brad explained. "I made a couple of passes on the Ortega Highway and then just started north."

"The Ortega Highway?" Nate asked incredulously. "Fucking death wish, Sergeant?"

Brad chuckled. "It's not that bad if you don't ride like a fucking idiot, trying to overcompensate for a tiny dick by spending too much money on too much bike and riding in a way that exceeds your skill level."

"So," Nate summarized. "You made two passes of the infamous Ortega Highway and then managed to crash your bike on a straight away on PCH?"

"I was tired and distracted," Brad confessed, realizing the alcohol hadn't helped shore up emotional defenses already crumbling from fatigue.

Nate made a non-committal sound. They drove in silence for a while before Nate spoke again.

"What distracted you?"

Brad took a deep breath as he tried to decide whether to answer truthfully or evade the fucking skirmish all together.

"Memories," he finally answered. Fuck it, this was Nate. If ever he could speak truth to power, it was to Nate.

"I can imagine," Nate's voice was quiet in the dark of the car.

"Yes, sir," Brad sighed. "I know you can." He wondered if the sense of intimacy that settled in the car was his imagination.

"Any memories in particular got you unsettled?" Nate prodded.

"All the ones where I was lacking necessary intel and not in control of the situation to an extent that the competence of myself and my men had no bearing whatsoever on whether or not we would survive the day."

"Jesus, Brad," Nate huffed. "That sums up our entire time in theater."

"Yeah," Brad concurred darkly.

They drove on in silence.

The late hour meant little traffic and Nate followed Brad's clipped directions to the Mandalay on the ocean in Oxnard. Brad checked them in and got a single room with two queen beds.

Brad stood at the window, looking out at the ocean, fully aware that Nate had taken a seat on the bed furthest from the window. He studiously ignored the fact that Nate was on a bed in Brad's immediate vicinity.

"I've been in my leathers all day," Brad said distractedly, almost to himself. "I need a shower."

"Then take a shower," Nate said in a low voice behind him. "I'll still be here when you get out."

It seemed an odd thing for Nate to say, but then again this was an odd situation.

Brad gathered up his pack and shut himself away in the bathroom.

The water was hot and the pressure was good and the head set high enough in the stall that Brad didn't have to stoop much to wash his hair. When he was done, he donned his shorts, ran the comb almost needlessly through his hair and brushed his teeth. He looked at his image in the wide mirror and noted his eyes looked feverish and the bags beneath them had returned.

He took a deep breath and steeled himself to leave the bathroom. Brad didn't fear Nate. What he feared was spending the night alone in a hotel room with Nate-fucking-Fick and facing the emotions that that was going to cause.

Nate was propped against the headboard, one leg casually on the bed, the other on the floor. He appeared as at ease as Brad was on edge. Brad tossed his stuff on the second bed and went back to staring out the window. His palms itched with the need to touch Nate as he sat on the bed, looking so relaxed.

"I don't want to pressure you to talk, Brad," Nate broke the silence of the room. "But I also don't want you driving your bike over the side of Malibu Canyon."

Fuck. Brad should just give up and accept that he wasn't going to get out of this without facing his demons. The best he was going to get to do was control which demons he revealed to Nate.

"Believe it or not, sir," he began, and turned and leaned against the windowsill so he could see Nate. "Talking doesn't pose much of a problem. Kocher, Wynn, Poke, Lovell; we've all sat down, had a beer and cursed the Corps, Godfather, Encino Man and Mattis."

"Good, Brad," Nate said, turning to perch on the side of the bed to watch Brad closely. "I'm gratified to hear that." He watched as a corner of Nate's mouth quirked upward in humor. "I hope you at least went easy on me."

Brad couldn't help but smile, "Fishing for compliments is beneath you, sir."

Nate gifted him with a brilliant smile of his own. "Just hoping I'm not responsible for too much of the damage to your psyche that's brought us to this point."

That brought Brad up short. Nate was under his skin, in his thoughts, and painted on the backs of his lids when he closed his eyes. Nate, as an officer, had not fucked Brad up. As a man, it was a completely different story.

"I used to love to ride my bike because it was solitary," Brad finally said. "It gave me a sense of isolation and freedom."

"It doesn't anymore?" Nate asked, his interest genuine.

"Yes, it does," Brad confessed. "But since we've been back, that isn't what I've needed."

"What is it you think you need? What's changed?"

The answer to that question was the gate that held back all of Brad's fucking demons. If he answered the right way he could placate Nate without giving too much away. Control. He would control this situation, unlike all the ones he hadn't been able to in Iraq.

"Power, sir," Brad said simply.

"Power?" Nate's eyebrows lifted and Brad didn't know whether to salute or drop to his fucking knees.

"I felt powerless over there." Brad felt a torrent of words beginning to flow now that he'd unstopped the dam. "I'm trained to take intel and an objective and execute a mission, independent of command."

"Answerable to them only for your results," Nate finished for him. "I understand."

"Command threw that all out the fucking window in Iraq and didn't let us in on the plan." He stalked to the second bed and sat down across from Nate. "I never knew from one second to the next what my fucking mission was. I didn't get the equipment I needed to do my job properly. And to top off the idiotic goat-roping, they saddled me with incompetent officers who couldn't find their assholes even if they were given a GPS enema."

Nate couldn't hold back his smirk.

"Present company excepted," Brad added as an afterthought.

Nate nodded his appreciation.

"In fact, those same troglodytes had such a hard-on for you - " Brad was on a roll now - "simply because you were more competent than they were."

"That was for me to worry about, Brad," Nate said sharply. "You should never have tried to take on that burden for yourself."

Brad stood up and began to pace. This entire fucked up conversation had him jumpy as hell.

"I couldn't fucking fix it," he said in frustration. "I was goddamn powerless to do anything about it."

Nate watched Brad prowl the room. "So, you don't feel you've been able to restore your sense of control since we've been back?"

He released a heavy sigh. "No, sir."

Nate ran his hands over his face. "Fuck, Brad. You and I are a pair."

Brad stopped pacing the room long enough to study Nate; to finally see how beaten down he still looked now that they were home.

"The logic of your statement escapes me, sir."

"You're struggling to regain some sense of control over your life and I've desperately wanted to just let it all the fuck go." Nate looked as bleak as he ever had in theater.  
Brad considered this surprising turn of events for a long moment. Then he made a move he suspected was very unwise. He sat down on the bed next to Nate. Brad felt his heart hammering in his throat now that they were so close.

"When you say you want to let it all the fuck go," Brad asked, "do you mean for good, or for the moment?"

"I like to think that if I can just out of my own head for an hour," Nate answered, resting his elbows on his legs and staring at the floor, "or for a night, or maybe even a twenty-four hour period, I'd feel better. Things would get easier."

"So, if I understand the situation," Brad said slowly, hardly daring to hope he understood what Nate was saying. "You feel the need to surrender control and I feel the need to take it back?"

"And here we are," Nate said, without looking up. "Alone together, in a hotel room, for the night."

They were both silent for several long moments. Then, "Am I to understand that you and I might engage in some activities that are mutually beneficial for our individual fucked up situations?"

"It would rather defeat my purpose," Nate said, sitting up straight and meeting Brad's eyes. "If I asked or ordered."

"I can see how that would be the case," Brad replied, holding Nate's gaze steadily. "But I'm just a grunt and I need my orders spelled out for me."

"You're very astute, Brad," Nate fired back. "We both trust your judgment more than most anyone else either of us knows. I just can't have any kind of dubious consent issues between us."

"Solid copy, Nate," Brad said as he grabbed him behind the neck and pulled him in for wet and dirty kiss.

Brad's largest demon of all rose up and all but consumed him. He held Nate steady with both hands and plundered his sinfully enticing mouth. This is what had haunted his waking and sleeping hours for months. This wanting and not believing he could have his commanding officer under his mouth, his hands, his body.

Nate's mouth opened willingly under Brad's, their tongues meeting in a wet glide and rub that turned sloppy in their mutual need and desperation. Brad pulled back slightly, licking into Nate's mouth once before sinking his teeth into his lower lip.

The sound Nate made was lewd and Brad felt it in his cock. He released Nate's lip only to have his own tongue drawn in and sucked on as if it was sustenance. Nate's hands were on Brad's back now, blunt nails dragging down his spine. He grunted into Nate's mouth, expressing his appreciation. Brad started to reach for the button on Nate's jeans when a stray thought froze his blood.

Pulling back suddenly, causing their lips to part in a loud, wet smack, Brad buried his face in Nate's neck and gasped, "I don't have any fucking supplies with me."  
Nate slid his hands under the elastic of Brad's shorts and squeezed his ass hard. "In my bag."

Brad smiled against Nate's throat. "I called you in my hour of need, injured and vulnerable. You thought to pack condoms and lube, with which to take advantage of me, before riding to my rescue?"

"I've had supplies on me, anytime I knew I was going to be in your company, since we got back stateside." One of Nate's fingers was teasing at the cleft of Brad's ass.  
Brad pulled back and searched Nate's eyes for the truth in his words. "A hint of some sort would have saved me from laying down my bike earlier tonight."

"The entire 'Iceman' guise made it too hard to determine if such attentions were welcome," Nate fired back.

"Fuck it, we're here now," Brad said decisively, standing up to retrieve Nate's bag. "While I'm retrieving our required equipment, you get naked."

Nate bent to unlace his shoes and Brad knew he'd made the right call. Nate had briefed him on his mission but left the execution up to his discretion. Brad needed to wrest back a sense of control over his own life and Nate needed to give it all up for a time. Brad was going to find his empowerment in Nate's surrender.

The size of the bottle of lube and the length of the strip of condoms made Brad smile. He tossed Nate's bag aside and turned back to the bed. Nate was down to just his jeans when Brad tossed the items beside him.

"You're either one hell of an optimist or you have great confidence in my endurance level." Brad reached for Nate's fly and began to work off his jeans.

"If the opportunity ever arose I didn't want any excuses for why I couldn't exploit it," Nate replied with all seriousness.

"I'll do my best to reward your excellent strategic planning." Brad stripped Nate's jeans from his body then promptly pressed him backward into the bed. He stepped quickly out of his shorts, and then settled himself on top of Nate's body.

Brad settled between Nate's spread thighs and felt those same legs wrap around his hips. Nate reached for him as he lowered himself, but Brad pushed his hands away, pressing them back into the bed. He kissed Nate, licking past his lips and into his mouth. His dick grew steadily harder at the wet glide and rub of their tongues together.  
Brad swallowed Nate's moans and soft sounds of pleasure. Nate's cock was as hard as his own, pressing wetly up against his hip. When Brad felt one of Nate's hands glide against his ribs, he shifted until he could press both of Nate's wrists to the bed.

"Stay there until I tell you otherwise," Brad growled into Nate's throat, nipping lightly at his hammering pulse.

Nate's strangled sound of obedience made Brad's cock bounce against his own belly. Christ, but those sounds were fucking hot. He slid his way down Nate's body, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his chest, nipping lightly on occasion when he thought he could draw out another gasp or moan. Even better was the dirty string of epithets that Nate barely whispered.

Brad reached one of Nate's nipples and he circled it with the tip of his tongue. The bud of flesh puckered and hardened further. Brad took the peaked tip into his mouth and glanced up to gauge Nate's reaction. He'd curled his hands into tight fists, but he hadn't lifted them from the bed. Color was high on his cheeks and a flush had spread over his chest. It was about the hottest fucking thing Brad had ever seen.

"Surrender becomes you," Brad murmured into the heated skin of Nate's chest. "I can't wait to see what you look like when I slide something up your ass."

Nate closed his eyes briefly at Brad's words and when they opened again they were fever bright, pupils blown wide. His chest heaved with each breath he took. Brad skimmed his hands over Nate's sides and flanks and sank his teeth into the nipple just under his lips.

"Fuck," Nate moaned as his body surged upward into Brad's. His hard cock pressed into Brad's belly. "Again, please."

Brad had never heard that particular tone from Nate before and fuck if he didn't want to hear it again. He shifted back over to the first nipple and dragged the flat of his tongue over it before clamping down with his teeth, just a little bit harder.

Nate's answering grunt was one of pained pleasure. Brad looked up at him, saw Nate almost lift his fists from the bed before relaxing down onto it again.

Brad continued his bodily assault of Nate Fick by licking his way down his taut belly. Nate tasted of warm, clean skin and just a hint of sweat. Brad inhaled deeply, drinking in Nate's singular, masculine scent.

Nate was restless beneath him. His hips pressed up into Brad's body, seeking pressure and friction for his weeping dick. Nate's legs slid and shifted against his sides before wrapping around his waist, only to fall back to the bed.

It had been too long since Brad had felt this empowered, this in control. He had his objective and plan for reaching it. He felt his anger and his soul-killing frustration begin to bleed away. It was slowly being replaced by joy at having Nate naked and pliable under him. Brad had dreamed of fucking Nate against the side of a Humvee - of forcing him to his knees in the sand in the dark of an Iraqi night. None of those fantasies compared to the reality of a submissive and needy Nate giving it all up for Brad to suck and fuck him.

He grazed his teeth over one of Nate's hipbones and dragged the flat of tongue along the sensitive dip beside it. He pressed a kiss to Nate's lower belly and felt the muscles contract and tremble. He breathed in Nate's scent again and breathed out a hot breath of air against his sensitive skin.

Brad held Nate steady with his hands as he began to speak lewd and debauched words against his flesh. "Your cock is so hard it looks like it hurts," he murmured, sliding over to lick Nate's other hipbone. "But I'm not going to let you come yet. And when you come is up to me."

Nate gasped and shuddered.

"I'm going to fucking fold you in half and eat your asshole wide open." Nate's hips twitched in Brad's hands. "Then I'm going to slide a finger inside you and tease you with it. If you're good for me, I'll give you another. If you're really good, I'll let you fuck yourself on three of my fingers."

"Yes, okay, please." Nate's voice was shattered and it sounded as though he was having difficulty getting air.

Brad struck hard and fast. He grabbed Nate behind both knees and pushed them up to his chest. He slid his hands down the back of Nate's thighs until he reached the cheeks of his firm and rounded ass. Brad settled himself down onto the bed and used his hands to hold Nate's ass open. He savored the sight. It was one he never thought he'd get to see.

He stretched Nate wider and watched as the puckered fissure clenched and relaxed. He laid the flat of his tongue against it and licked a broad stripe and felt Nate tense then settle back down. Brad heard clearly the string of oaths Nate spit out through gritted teeth.

Brad dove in then. He held Nate wide and licked at him, first with the flat of his tongue; then he teased mercilessly with the firmed tip. He kissed the opening, feeling the heat of Nate's body concentrated right there. Brad licked and he sucked and he kissed and he opened Nate's body with the sheer force of his tongue and his will.

"Hold your legs open for me," Brad ordered in a sex-roughened voice. "Use your hands."

Nate complied immediately, hooking his hands behind his knees and pulling them up and wide. He offered his ass up for Brad like a wanton whore.

Brad grabbed up the bottle of lube and coated a finger. He teased Nate's opening and heard him gasp and hold his breath in anticipation of being breached. Brad obliged him and pressed in.

As he expected, Brad's finger slid in easily past the first ring of muscle in Nate's ass. He'd eaten Nate wide open, just as he'd promised, so that came as no surprise. When Brad's finger slid easily past the second ring, the one that clenched and clamped involuntarily, he nearly came right then and there with his dick pressed to the bed.

Nate had completely surrendered and in his surrender, he'd found peace. It had relaxed his body for Brad to use as he chose.

Brad pressed his finger in to the knuckle and Nate sighed in pleasure. He withdrew it slowly and watched Nate's body grasp at it, as if not wanting to let go. Brad pressed back in and gave a small twist, feeling the slick coat Nate's channel.

When Brad withdrew his finger, Nate made a frustrated sound of disappointment. Brad chuckled and nipped at Nate's ass cheek. He coated two fingers with more lube and slid them easily into Nate's body.

"What a hungry little ass you have," Brad said as he pressed his fingers deep into Nate. "If two fingers feel good, how about three?"

"Yeah," Nate agreed. "Please."

Brad added lube and rose up to his knees. He placed a hand on Nate's thigh, unsure which of them he was trying to steady. Brad watched as three of his fingers slid easily into Nate's ass, almost as if his body was dragging Brad in.

He glanced up at Nate's face and what he saw stilled his movements. Nate was watching him. Nate was watching him as if he wanted to be devoured. His features were suffused with extreme pleasure but his eyes were asking for more. Nate's eyes were begging Brad for more.

Brad moved his hand from Nate's thigh to his belly and rubbed him soothingly. He pressed his fingers in, gave a twist and crooked them a little and Nate arched up off the bed. His eyes never left Brad's though. The flush on his chest and cheekbones was brighter now. Added to the pleasure and the need in his eyes, Brad's own breath caught when he thought he saw trust there, too.

"Fuck, Brad," Nate gasped. "More. Like that."

Brad soothed Nate with a gentle circle to his belly. Then he slid his third finger into Nate's welcoming hole. Brad bent his fingers and felt for that particular spot with which he'd been getting such good results.

Nate bit back a cry as he arched this time, but he still didn't look away from Brad.

"Is that it, Nate?" Brad asked, wondering at the gravelly sound of his own wrecked voice. "Is that what you need?"

"Fuck yeah." Nate's brow furrowed until he wore a look of desperation. "Again. More."

Brad hesitated a moment, wondering if Nate understood what he was asking for. Still, the look in Nate's eyes was clear and aware. He was looking right at Brad; he saw him. And, of course, each time Brad slid a finger into Nate, it was welcomed easily, with no resistance at all.

Gently sliding his fingers out of Nate's body, Brad took up the bottle of slick and coated four fingers generously. He was not going to ruin this for either of them with the incompetence of friction and drag. He returned two fingers to Nate's eager hole and quickly followed with a third. Brad placed a gentling hand on Nate's belly and soothed a circle into his skin, and then he eased a fourth finger in.

Brad watched Nate's mouth fall open but his eyes told the real story. He liked Brad's hand inside of him, pressing and stretching. His body accepted it eagerly, still seeming to crave more.

"Brad," Nate choked.

"Yeah, Nate?" he asked, aware that his hands were shaking and there was a tremor in his own voice. "You okay?" He stroked Nate's belly to try to calm them both.

"Fuck, yeah," Nate stumbled on his own words. "But I…want…I need…"

"I know, I know," Brad said, suddenly realizing he did know and Christ. "Are you sure?"

"Yessss," Nate's eyes never wavered from Brad's. "Have you done this before?"

Brad hesitated. For one brief moment he wasn't sure he wanted to confess this to Nate. To Nate. Then, he gave himself a mental kick in the ass. Nate lay there with four of Brad's fingers up his ass, asking for more and there wasn't a flicker of anything other than utter trust and affection in his eyes. Fuck if Brad was going to back the fuck down from that.

"I've had it done," Brad finally said. "I've got you, Nate. I … I'll take care of you."

Nate's answering smile was beatific. "I know you will."

Brad rubbed Nate's belly again as he slowly extracted his fingers. "I need you to relax, Nate," he said, trying to steady his voice. "Whatever happens, you gotta stay relaxed for me."

Nate nodded his understanding.

He grabbed up the lube bottle again and found he was grateful Nate had optimistically opted for the larger size. Brad coated his hand thickly with the slick gel. Once again, he stroked Nate's belly. The two fingers he slid in met with no barrier or tension.

Brad's third finger seemed to be drawn right into Nate's body. He followed with the fourth and waited for Nate to adjust.

"Relax," Brad murmured, one final time, making sure Nate was watching him and understood. "Whatever happens, don't fight me. Talk to me, Nate if it gets to be too much. I've got you."

Nate's entire body fell open and relaxed. He showed no anxiety, just complete trust and intense pleasure.

Brad tucked his thumb into his palm, acutely aware of just how large and blunt-fingered his hands were. He made his hand as narrow as he could, and then pressed inward.

"Breathe, Nate," Brad coaxed, feeling Nate's body open and accept his hand. "Relax. Don't fight me. Keep breathing."

Nate's eyes fluttered open just a little wider and Brad resumed his soothing circles on his belly. xml:namespace prefix = o /

"Breathe, Nate," Brad cautioned. "Slow, deep breaths." Brad watched as Nate's hands fisted in the pillow beneath his head but he felt no tightening around his fingers. "Good, that's good." He smiled as he coached Nate. "Just remember to breathe slow and deep. Relax. I've got you."

Brad pressed his hand further into Nate's body. He had reached the second knuckle of his thumb. He held Nate's eyes and pressed, still caressing with the soothing circles. Nate's chest rose and fell slowly. He took deep breaths, just as Brad had told him. He continued to press in and kept his eyes on Nate's ethereal face, watching for signs of pain or distress and finding none.

His thumb joint slipped inside of Nate with an abruptness that surprised them both. Nate's eyes flew open and he drew in a loud gasp. Brad felt his hand completely enveloped in the extreme heat of Nate's body at the same time that body clamped down on his fist, clear to the wrist.

"Breathe, Nate," Brad encouraged in a tight voice. "Keep breathing for me."

Nate followed Brad's instructions, his eyes boring intently into Brad's, as if afraid to look away even for a moment. He took a deep, cleansing breath and focused on the tension around his fist. Brad determined that it was just Nate's reflexive reaction to the incursion. It was okay, Brad told himself. Nate was okay.

"Brad," Nate's voice quavered and Brad's heart stuttered.

"I know," he soothed, giving Nate a lopsided smile. "I've got you. I'm here, I've got you."

Brad watched Nate continue to breathe deeply. He felt the muscles clasping his wrist lessen just slightly. Watching Nate's face closely, Brad folded his fingers over his thumb.

Nate's expression was blissful. He glowed as he continued to breathe.

"That's it, you're doing just fine." Brad shifted his fist experimentally. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I am," Nate groaned.

Brad nodded and ran his free hand along Nate's body. He tried to sooth, encourage and praise with his touch. "Just focus on me. Feel me inside of you. Feel how I stretch you."

"Yeah, Brad," Nate whispered. "I can feel you."

As Brad looked into Nate's eyes, he realized he could feel Nate's heart beat in his arm. Brad could feel every single beat of Nate's heart as it thrummed through his body and up Brad's arm.

He swallowed hard, nearly overcome with the awe of it all. Brad was so fucking close to coming, even without touching himself.

"Nate," he bit out through his clenched teeth.

"Brad," Nate responded and Brad could tell he had found that place. That place where he could let it all the fuck go. He had surrendered and submitted, giving it all up to Brad. Nate was beyond pain and discomfort and was living moment to moment for the pleasure Brad was giving him.

"I can feel your heart," Brad told him, still fucking stunned at where he found himself and the trust Nate had placed in him.

"I feel myself clenching and pulsing around you," Nate said, a look of splendor on his face.

"I feel that too," Brad breathed. "Is this what you expected?"

"Better," Nate sighed.

Brad smiled at him. "I'm going to move just a little bit now."

"Okay," Nate agreed readily.

"Just a little bit. Keep breathing and relax. I've got you. Just relax."

Brad pulled his hand back toward himself, ever so slightly. It was just enough to feel the tug and pull of Nate's muscles and the stretch of his clenched opening. Then, Brad pushed back in. It was a small movement. He moved just enough so that he could feel the shift in Nate's muscles and heat envelope him, just a little further down his wrist.

Again, Brad pulled back and pressed back in. This time, he added a slight twist of his hand. The joint of his thumb brushed lightly against that certain gland deep inside Nate's body.

The sound Nate made in response was guttural and animalistic. Brad had never heard anything like it. "Fuckfuckfuckfuck," Nate chanted and Brad feared for a moment that he was injured. "Christ, fuck, Brad," Nate sobbed Brad's name, his chest heaving with each breath he took.

"I've got you, Nate," Brad answered, his voice gravelly to his own ears. "You want more like that?"

"Yeah, yeah," Nate panted. "Just like that."

Brad ran his hand over Nate's belly, then pulled and twisted the fist inside of him slowly, subtly, but with precision. Each subtle tug and shift pressed up against Nate's prostate. Brad watched Nate's swollen, blood-red cock bounce and twist against his belly with each gentle rub. He wasn't sure how Nate was standing this, how much longer he could take this kind of pleasure before he fucking burst apart.

He didn't have long to wait to find out. Without warning, Nate's entire body seemed to clamp down on Brad's arm. He felt Nate tremble violently around him, his heartbeat pouncing up Brad's arm and joining with his own. Ruthlessly clenched teeth muffled Nate's primitive cry. Brad watched as Nate's cock pulsed repeatedly, white jets of come rocketing from the tip to streak Nate's own throat, chest and belly. Long ropes of come merged and puddled on Nate's pale skin as Brad watched, mesmerized.

He had no choice but to hold on while Nate came, long and hard. Brad stroked his belly, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement he wasn't sure made any sense. He just didn't know what else he could do with his fist still buried in Nate's ass, feeling each wave of his climax and so painfully aware that he could still feel Nate's vitally beating heart. Brad had never felt so connected to another human being.

He watched as Nate came down, slowly. His tremors subsided and his breathing steadied and Brad stayed knelt between his thighs, waiting.

"Okay?" he asked when it finally seemed Nate was coherent. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Nate sighed. "Yeah, I'm great." Nate's quiet chuckle reverberated up Brad's arm and he gasped.

"Are you okay?" Nate asked, his gaze shooting to Brad's. "Did you … have you …"

Brad felt one side of his mouth lift in grin he couldn't help. "No, no not yet. Don't worry about me, I'm fine."

"Brad…" He could tell Nate was about to protest so he cut him off.

"I need you to stay relaxed," Brad said. "Breathe deep for me, Nate."

Nate nodded his understanding and Brad slowly began to ease himself out. He unfurled his fingers and once again made his hand as narrow as he could. He pulled gently, careful not to cause Nate any discomfort. Brad breathed a sigh of relief, echoed by Nate, when his hand slid past the rings of muscle finally; he was free.

He ran a hand along Nate's thigh and pressed a kiss to the tender skin inside. "Just relax; I'll get you cleaned up."

Brad cleaned himself of lube and sweat and struggled to ignore his painful hard-on. After the way Nate had given himself up, Brad trying to stick his cock in his mouth or ass just wasn't going to happen. He wet a hand towel with warm water and returned to the bed, wiping away lube and sweat from Nate's ass.

"Brad," Nate said, suddenly grabbing Brad's wrist to stop his movements. "If you don't use me to take care of your own needs, it won't feel finished to me."

Brad hesitated, letting the impact of Nate's words settle over him. He realized he'd taken Nate this far; he'd be doing him a disservice to stop before he'd fully used Nate. If Brad didn't accept Nate's submission completely, this would all be for nothing.

Decision made, Brad grabbed the lube bottle and shoved at Nate's chest to push him back to the bed. He crawled up between Nate's thighs until he could straddle his sternum. Opening the lube bottle, he upended it and drizzled the slick on Nate's chest and belly.

Nate gasped at the cold gel.

Brad tossed the bottle aside and settled down onto Nate's body. He rocked his hips experimentally and found it was warm and slick on his ass and ball sac.

He looked down at Nate and smiled. "I'm gonna get myself off onto your chest," he said in a manner that was matter-of-fact. "I'm using you to rock against my cock until I come all over you. Got it?"

Nate nodded rapidly, his expression one of awe and anticipation.

Brad skimmed his hands through the lube and the come smeared across Nate's chest. He pressed his cock, hard and red, down until it rested on Nate's breastbone. Brad held himself in place with his come- and lube-covered hands. Then, he began to rock.

It was slick, it was hot and it was filthy and fuck, if it wasn't going to make Brad come in just a few strokes. Nate's skin was slick and warm under his ass and balls. Brad rocked himself roughly, back and forth, sliding his cock along Nate's chest. He watched Nate's face, held his gaze and he used his body to fuck himself against and get tantalizingly closer to his orgasm.

"Can I …" Nate gasped, and then hesitated. "Can I help? I want to touch you. Please?"

The plaintive 'please' was Brad's undoing. He rolled forward and grabbed Nate's hands, placing them on his chest. He coated Nate's palms in come and lube, and then moved them to cover Brad's cock.

Nate's hands on him made his sensitized cock jump and twitch. Brad rocked against Nate, thrusting and rolling his hips, creating the friction he needed. He fucked his near-bursting cock against Nate's chest and into his slicked hands. Brad held Nate's wrists hard enough to bruise, but he couldn't stop himself now.

Brad fucked and thrust and rolled against Nate. His cock and his balls and his ass slid lewdly against Nate's skin it then it was all just too much.

He came with a guttural shout, losing all rhythm and not caring. He pressed Nate's hands harder into his cock to keep himself pressed to slick skin as he thrust again and again. He shuddered and shook and added his come to the mess that coated Nate's chest. He watched as long, sticky ropes of come landed on Nate's chin and throat and chest. It was a mess, and it was the hottest fucking thing Brad had ever seen.

Completely spent, Brad fell forward over Nate's supine form. Somehow, his mouth found Nate's and they kissed long and deep and wet. Brad pressed his forehead to Nate's and struggled to control his breathing. It took longer to do that than it should have.

As gently as he could, Brad levered himself off of Nate's body. He retrieved the discarded towel and re-wet it with warm water. He cleaned himself off, rinsed the towel, then went to sit on the edge of the bed. Gently, Brad cleaned Nate of all traces of excess lube and their mingled come.

Nate was of no help at all. He was nearly asleep; warm and relaxed and limp. Brad didn't care. He too, was sated and at peace. Nate had given this to him and the least Brad could do was make sure he didn't wake up with dried come covering his skin.

Brad managed to get the bedspread, now hopelessly soiled, tugged down. He rolled Nate underneath the sheet and light blanket, and then kissed him one more time. When he went to slide off the bed, intending to crawl under the covers of the second one, Nate's hand suddenly grasped his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

"Where the fuck are you going, Brad?" Nate was no longer sleepy and pliant.

He was about to answer truthfully that he was going to sleep in the other bed, when Brad realized that wouldn't be wise.

"To toss the towel and I'll be right back?" He made it a question, realizing the balance of power was shifting back even now.

Nate nodded his approval of the plan and released Brad's wrist.

Brad made a pass of the room, securing the door and shutting off all the lights. When he reached the bed again, Nate held the covers up for him to slide under.

They shifted around until they each found a comfortable position. Their bodies touched at several points but neither of them clung to the other. Brad thought it felt right.

"Better than wrecking your bike, don't you think?" Nate's voice broke the silence of the darkened room.

"Yeah," Brad had to agree.

"Remember that next time," Nate ordered and Brad smiled into the dark.

"Roger that, sir."


End file.
